


Pretty boy

by WritingRevolutionary



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Soft Spot Conlon, Spot Being a Good Boyfriend, but nothing graphic, first I love yous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingRevolutionary/pseuds/WritingRevolutionary
Summary: Race gets beaten up and Spot comes to the rescue
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Kudos: 66





	Pretty boy

Spot was strolling through Brooklyn as he often did when he'd sold his papes for the day. He liked to keep an eye on his territory, make sure nothing was amiss. This afternoon though, it was. He spotted a figure sitting against an alley wall, slightly slumped over. On closer inspection, it was definitely a newsie. And if someone had been going round soaking his boys it was his business to find out who, and fix it so they couldn't walk for a week. 

"Hey, what happened here?", he asked. The boy looked up.

"Would you believe that I was defending my sweetheart's honour?" Spot rolled his eyes as Race grinned up at him. 

"No, I would not. And 'sweetheart'? What are you, a dame? What really happened?"

"I got jumped..." Spot's eyes widened. "They didn't get anything though. They was just other newsies, I can hold my own".

"Not my newsies?"

"I dunno what t' tell ya big guy, maybe they don't like yous giving up selling spots to Manhattan".

"You's practically Brooklyn, they know that. What they look like?"

"It don't matter Spotty, just take me home?"

"Not on your life. I'm taking you back to the Brooklyn lodging house and I'm gonna take care of you until you can walk back to Manhattan. And I'm gonna find these bastards".

"As long as I'm with you it's home Spotty".

"Damn, you hit your head pretty boy? What else hurts?"

"You think I'm pretty?" Spot made a noncommittal sound. "Even with a black eye?"

"Yeah, sure, now come on". Spot moved to put his arm around Race's waist to pull him up. There was a sudden intake of breath from Race, and Spot realised he must have bruised his ribs. "You ok to walk if I help?"

"Don't need help, I'm fine", Racetrack retorted. But his face said otherwise.

"If you're really fine, why didn't you come find me?"

"I ain't takin' on anyone else who might wanna piece of me in this state, I wasn't gonna walk any further into the belly of the beast. Sides, didn't wanna worry you".

"I always worry about you Racer. You're that kind of person".

"What's that supposed to mean?" Race asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, trying to wheedle an admission of affection out of Spot.

"It means, you're a pain in the ass, and I have to live with the fear that someone might beat you to death for it before I get a chance to", but he gave Race a lopsided grin to show he didn't really mean it.

"Come on, I'm a delight!"

"Still, you do have a knack for pissing people off. Look, I don't care if you did, I'll kill 'em anyway, but you didn't by any chance happen to get too smart for your own good with those boys did you?"

"Aw, come on Spot, it don't matter..." Race began, but Spot cut him off.

"No Racer, they's my responsibility, I wanna know what happened. And how come they didn't take anything even though you's so beat up you couldn't even come find me, if it's your money they was after".

"Ok, you want the God's honest truth?"

"Course I do".

"I think some of your boys don't like me very much Spot".

"Yeah, no kidding".

"No, they don't like me being with you. Don't wanna be in a borough run by a queer, their words, not mine, and that's my fault apparently, so..."

"What?" Spot exclaimed, his expression hardening. "They told you that?"

"What can I say Spotty, seems I'm attractive enough to turn any fella I want" Race grinned, winking.

"Be serious Race. They just told you that and then, what, beat you up and left you as though I wouldn't find out?"

"Guess they figured they'd just get me out of the way for a while and you wouldn't care enough to come looking", Race shrugged. Spot looked around to make sure no-one would see and then leant in to kiss Race deeply. Race let out a small moan in surprise.

"I love you", Spot said bluntly, "And I will always come and find you". Race just gulped and nodded, too in shock to respond. "Now come on", Spot continued, "There's some boys I gotta have words with. They don't like they way we do things in Brooklyn then they can fuck off". They began to walk together, Race leaning heavily on Spot. Eventually, Race seemed to come back down to earth. 

"Hey Spotty?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I love you too".

"I know pretty boy".


End file.
